I'm Gone
by Take Me Down Like I'm A Domino
Summary: Jade's torment get's the better of the one she loves. /Rated M for themes of self harm.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story line.**

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_But I'm sorry, it's been too much, I can't go on._

I stare at the paper blankly, like it's transparent. I'm staring right through it, right through the floor, right through everything. My eyes move, but my brain doesn't comprehend a thing, a single word, or movement. It's as if someone pulled at the nerve endings in my brain, turning it off. I've reread the letter over twenty times, but I still can't process it. It's as if my mind refuses to let me feel guilt, but it's still very much present in my heart. It's pushing its way to the surface, trying to push itself into every pore of skin, trying to push itself into my brain. It'll win. It always wins.

I "hated" her. I was horrible to her, for my own personal gain. The day she walked in I knew she was something special, and while on occasion she did act like a snob, I loved her. I had a boyfriend, it was all I use to need, until her. I hated the way she made me feel, and that hatred was true. I never wanted to feel anything for her. I never wanted to look at her and have my heart patter faster than usual. I never wanted an explosion of butterflies to burst in my stomach. I never wanted my mind to go crazy every time she was near. I never wanted it, any of it.

My bitterness got the best of me, and I picked and prodded, and turned her into my own little puppet. I moved her, and made her feel. I made her speak, I made her do everything. I was just like Robbie, only my puppet was real. I was in control, and she always complied to me. There were arguments, and vicious words shoved past our lips time and time again. There was rough housing, and of course, always because of me. There was "friendship", rarely. It came about when I wanted it to. I would let my true self seep through the cracks for just a moment, but shortly after would I find the strength to absorb it back in. My façade would never be broken permanently.

The moment I realized I loved her was about a month after she started, liking her only took a few seconds. It was a testament to my acting really, how well I could pull off not liking her. Everyone was convinced, Beck, Cat, Robbie, everyone, and sometimes even myself. I knew the truth though, I just never wanted to admit it. It was the way she talked, or the way she tried to be strong. It was the way she stood up to me sometimes, and it was the way that she cared no matter what I did to her. I tortured her. I didn't like it, but I did it, because I'm a coward.

The night they found her everyone was notified, but me. I found out when I opened the newspaper a few days later and saw her obituary hitting me dead in the face. I stared at it for thirty minutes, thinking it was some kind of sick joke. Everything added up though; Why Cat was so sad, why Beck practically became putty in my hands. It was why Rex stopped his stupid jokes, and Robbie stopped flirting. It was everything. Most importantly, it was why she hadn't been there. My ego swallowed reality, it swallowed me, and my common sense.

The cause of death was "accidental overdose", but the suicide letter they found stated otherwise. I believed it was accidental. I made myself believe it, because it tore me apart inside to think of anything else. I lost it when I found out. I screamed, I cried, I hurt myself. The love of my life was gone, and I was still stuck with the fake boyfriend. I would never get that chance to tell her that I loved her. I would never get that chance to say that I was sorry. I would never get anything that had to do with her, ever again.

When I showed up to the funeral, I was glared at, by my friends, by her family, and I couldn't understand why. Upon leaving, Beck thrusted upon me the only thing that would ever break my heart more than her death; her goodbye letter.

It read;

_ I'm writing this with tears in my eyes, and despair in my heart. This may be the only thing I ever do for myself. It's horribly wrong, but I can't do it anymore. She sits and she torments me. I sit and I love her. We sit and we clash, and we argue, and we hate, but I secretly love, and there's only so much love you can have until it hurts, until it breaks down every morsel in your body. I've loved, and I'd liked it to be have lost, but I've loved and haven't been loved in return. I want to love still more than anything, but I'm sorry it's been too much, I can't go on. _

There was no name on it. There didn't have to be. Everyone knew who she was referring to. The front of the envelope read "To whom it may concern". That was the most lacking amount of emotion I think she had ever had, and it killed to know I could read her that well. The letter was written with a cold heart, and the paper was stained from where some of her tears had fallen, and I run my fingers over them again for the countless time, trying to feel part of her here with me, but I feel nothing that could even remotely resemble her.

And now I sit here writing this with tears in my eyes, and sorrow in my heart. This may be the most selfless thing I ever do. It's not horribly wrong to want to be with the person you love. I've sat and I've tormented myself, wanting to feel her pain. I've sat and I've loved her. I've sat and I've broken down every last piece of me. I've been killing myself, slowly, painfully slow, and it doesn't hurt anymore, because I know that soon I'll be with her. I've loved, and I still love, and my love is no longer here, so I have no other reason to be either. I want to be with her more than anything, and I'm sorry that I want that, but I do, and I can't go on without her. I'm going, I'd love to say that I've already gone, but I'm almost there now. _  
_


End file.
